


Im Bereitschaftsdienst

by smokeopossum



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Assisted Masturbation, Bad Flirting, F/F, Flirting, Glove Kink, Hand Jobs, Inappropriate Erections, Inappropriate Relations Between Doctor And Patient, Light Medical Kink, Medicinal Drug Use, Minor Injuries, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Speedy Recovery, Trans Female Character, i want to make it clear the nsfw bit happens with clear heads though, these hands are only capable of creating filth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-07
Updated: 2017-04-07
Packaged: 2018-10-15 21:25:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10557948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smokeopossum/pseuds/smokeopossum
Summary: “How many painkillers did Anagive youon the ride back?”“Yeah,” Lena answers, nodding. Angela rubs at her temple.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LesbianMess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LesbianMess/gifts).



> a gift for a wonderful gf. ty [@lesbianmess](http://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbianmess) i hope u enjoy
> 
> if slightly compromised inhibitions and/or any sort of doctor/patient stuff squicks you out, maybe don't read this one. i tried to keep it light and consensual and lay down some friendly groundwork for all this, but if the inherent power imbalance is still uncomfy i understand  
> also don't read if you're a transphobe but i feel like that should be obvious by now
> 
> also also i was working on something for widowtracer week but i'm shit with deadlines so it'll probably be out like. next month. whoops lol
> 
> translations at the bottom and on hover. you're not missing much if you skip 'em

Being a dashing vigilante isn’t always as easy as Tracer might make it seem sometimes. The fights are hard, the hours are long, and the women? The women are all dangerously sexy. Emphasis on the _danger_.

“Really, Lena?” Mercy stares at a sheepish Tracer as she’s carried into the medical ward by Zarya, leg propped up against the bodybuilder’s shoulder and clutching a swollen hand. “Genji said you were flirting with Widowmaker. Again.”

Zarya roughly deposits her onto a cot with a sour look, ignoring her whimper of pain. “She was.”

“I was _distracting_ her! Didn’t see you gettin’ your heads blown off now didja?”

Zarya scowls. “You are lucky you are not dead, _burunduk._ They were _kissing,”_ she directs to Mercy, “and Widowmaker decided to disable her and flee after Talon lost the objective.”

“She wouldn’t kill me,” Tracer grumbled. “Breaking my hand was a bit much though. S’pose I shouldn’t have gone for her bum.”

The other two ignore her.

“Thank you, Zarya. Your patience with Lena is almost as inspiring as your physique.” The compliment wipes the frown off her face, and Angela laughs as Zarya flexes. “I’ll need to check over Lena now, but really, thank you for bringing her in.”

“ _Da_. Stay out of trouble, little one,” she says to Tracer, ruffling her hair before taking her leave. As the doors hiss shut behind her, Angela looks to Lena and sighs. She gathers her tablet and steps over to the cot with an unamused expression.

“It looks like she nearly dislocated your knee, and you say she broke your hand?”

“Bloody feels like it. Looks like I’m wearin’ a glove fulla mashed potatoes, too.” Tracer raises her arm to show her, hand limply flopping. Mercy raises a brow.

“How many painkillers did Ana _give you_ on the ride back?”

“Yeah,” Lena answers, nodding. Angela rubs at her temple.

“Right. Well, just relax while I check you over and see the extent of the damage.” She makes a few notes on her tablet as Tracer leans back against the cot and gives her a flirty smile.

“You can check me over as much as you’d like, doc. Want me to turn my head and cough?”

Angela rolls her eyes, her irritation belied by her fond smile. “Not yet, thank you. Just lie still, _mein kleiner Racker.”_

“Mm, I’ll do whatever you like if you call me yours.” Tracer gives her a slow, uncoordinated wink - or at least, Mercy thinks it’s a wink. It could have been a poorly timed blink. She ignores it regardless and presses a button on the side of the tablet to begin scanning her body. It projects a blue field that sweeps over Lena from head to toe in a matter of seconds, giving a soft beep when it’s done processing.

“Yes, that certainly is a fractured metacarpal,” Angela hums, mostly to herself as she makes a few more notes. Lena wrinkles her nose, fidgeting on the cot.

“Will I ever be able to play the piano again, luv?”

“You couldn’t play it in the first place. Sit still, please, I need to elevate your knee to cast it. She fractured your patella.” She turns to a cabinet near the cot and pulls out the necessary supplies, including a firm pillow that she tucks under Tracer’s foot.

“... Play you like a piano,” Lena mumbles, wincing as her leg is moved.

“Your wit is uninjured, I see,” Mercy says, unamused as she retrieves a stockinette and measures it out against her leg. “I’ll be as gentle as I can. Knee first, then the hand, alright? I’ll need to remove your leggings first.”

Tracer waggles her eyebrows, giving what she hopes is a seductive smile as Mercy begins peeling them down. “Bit sad I wore knickers today, in that case.”

“I’m rather appreciative.” She carefully tugs them down past the dark purple briefs she’s wearing and gingerly over the injured knee, placing them on a table nearby.

“Yeah, they are nice, aren’t they?” Lena runs her uninjured hand over the front of them with a smirk. Angela turns away to wash her hands before Lena can see the slight flush on her face, hoping it dies down before she turns back.

The casting materials are soon ready. Angela begins rolling the stockinette up Lena’s leg, careful to keep it from wrinkling or creasing. Her fingers graze high against Tracer’s inner thigh as she smoothes the material out, causing a whimper she steadfastly ignores. She expertly applies the padding next, then snaps on a fresh pair of gloves to begin the casting.

When she turns back around, cast tape in hand, she notices Tracer holding her uninjured hand in front of her groin with a blush.

“ _Really,_ Lena?” she sighs out, raising a brow.

“The um. It was the gloves,” she admits, not meeting Mercy’s eyes. “Sorry. Wasn’t trying to be funny this time.”

Angela only shakes her head and begins wrapping up her leg. When the first layer is finished, she tucks down the edges of the stockinette, ignoring the quiet gasp from Lena as her damp gloves drag against her inner thigh, and turns back to prepare the second layer.

The rest of it goes smoothly, and soon Mercy is dragging her palms against the length of the cast to mold it evenly.

“There you are, one down,” she says, peeling off the gloves and disposing of them, pretending not to notice how Tracer bites her lip at the sight. She turns back to Lena and fiddles with the vambrace for the injured arm for a moment, smiling when it clicks and pops open, and carefully sets it aside.

“Similar procedure to the one for your knee, but I’ll need you to sit up,” Angela explains as she pushes over a small table with a pillow on top. “And hopefully with less erections, hm?”

She allows herself a smirk at Tracer’s silent flush as she repositions herself, gathering up the new stockinette and patiently waiting for her to get comfortable. The casting goes quicker than the first, though she notes her squirm again when she pulls on a new pair of gloves. With the arm cast finally finished, she backs away and cleans up, then jots a few more notes down on her tablet.

“I’ll keep you here for observation for tonight, possibly through tomorrow if you report any severe pain. The painkillers should wear off soon. When they do, let me know and I can give you some more.” Mercy flashes a professional smile at Tracer as she looks up and tucks the tablet under her arm.

“Keep your arm and leg elevated and try not to move them much. The nanobots in your system will accelerate the healing, so you should only be out of commission for a few days at the very least, a week at most - a speedy recovery, all things considered. You’ll be out of here with crutches soon, but no rigorous exercise for at least two weeks, _ja?_ That includes sex.”

Lena had been nodding along with Angela’s explanations until the very end, when her jaw drops in outrage.

“No _sex?_ Even if it’s slow an’ gentle? What about wanking, surely I can still wank, yeah?”

Angela purses her lips to keep herself from ruining her professional demeanor with a wide smile or a snort of laughter. “No sex, _mein pfüderi._ You cannot risk your knee healing improperly. Masturbating should also wait, but I suppose there’s no harm if you don’t move around and don’t use the injured hand.”

Lena stares forlornly at her bundled up right hand, then at her left. Then back to the right.

“... Not even the fingertips?”

“You don’t really want to get semen on your cast, do you?”

“... Fair.”

She still pouts. Angela laughs and begins putting away the materials. A moment of silence is almost enough to convince her that Lena has finally drifted off, the painkillers having done a considerable number to her system, but a quiet call of “Angie?” catches her attention.

She slides the cabinet closed and turns. “Yes?”

“Feelin’ right thirsty,” Tracer murmurs with a slow smirk, not bothering to hide the way her eyes lazily drag up her body. “And you’re a tall glass of water, ain’t you? Would appreciate something nice an’ wet right about now.”

“ _Mein Gott._ I’ll need to remember to halve your painkiller dosage from what Ana gave you,” Angela mumbles to herself with a good-natured shake of her head. She grabs a plastic cup from a stack and fills it with cool water from the sink, then brings it over to Tracer at her cot.

“Try to keep it in your pants, Lena, and have some actual water.”

“Shan’t,” she says with a cheeky grin as she takes the cup. “Has a mind of it’s own, it does, and it’s been awful randy since I fooled around with Widowmaker.”

“She fractured your patella. And your hand.”

“Yeah,” Lena says with a dreamy sigh. “Think she likes me.”

Mercy shakes her head again with a chuckle. “I need to get back to work. Try to rest, _ja?_ Call for me if you need anything. I’ll give you more painkillers in an hour or so.”

Tracer lifts her half-drained cup of water in acknowledgment. “Cheers. And thanks for fixin’ me up, luv.”

“Of course. Do try not to let this happen again though.”

* * *

 

When Angela returns to Tracer’s bedside an hour later, she finds her passed out and snoring open-mouthed. She refills her water with a quiet chuckle and places a painkiller next to the cup for when she wakes up, then covers her lap with a thin blanket.

Two hours after that, when the last rays of sunlight have begun to fade through the windows of the medical wing, she hears Tracer call for her from her office. She removes her glasses and stands from her research, stretching with a groan and rubbing at her eyes before exiting.

“Aaaangelaaaa,” she hears Lena whine from the recovery bay.

“Yes?” she responds as she enters, then stops dead in the doorway as heat rises to her face.

Lena has kicked the blanket from earlier down to her ankles. Her uninjured hand is tucked into her currently tented briefs and slowly shifts underneath them as she gives Mercy a pleading look.

“I’m horny,” Tracer whines.

“So I see,” Mercy dryly responds. “Was that all you wanted to share?”

“This hand is shite at wanking, but can you get me a tissue? Doubt I’ll cum but I don’t wanna leave a mess if I do.” She bats her eyes with a slowly growing smile at Mercy. “Unless you’d like to give me a hand, doc? You could use a break from staring at a screen, in _my_ professional opinion, and you know how much I like that gentle physician’s touch of yours.”

Angela rolls her eyes as she grabs a tissue box from the supply cabinet, still blushing. Tracer continues to slowly stroke herself as she watches her place it on the table next to her bed.

The painkiller Mercy left there earlier has yet to be taken.

“You at least down to watch, then?” Tracer asks when the doctor doesn’t seem to be leaving.

“Hm. I think I could spare some time to play with you. And you could use some help removing your underwear, _ja?”_

Lena beams as she steps closer, about to thank her when Angela grabs a pair of latex gloves from the side table and pulls them on. Her tongue knots itself at the sight.

“I believe you mentioned something about these earlier,” Mercy teases as they snap against her skin. She delights in the reversal of roles as color now fills Tracer’s cheeks. Cool fingers drift to her hips and slip under the waistband of her briefs, then carefully begin to drag down.

“Fuck,” Lena whispers as she lifts her hips to assist, cheeks darkening further as Angela tugs her underwear to her thighs and exposes her hand squeezing at the base of her dick. She’s stiff and twitching under Angela’s curious gaze, and obediently relaxes her hold when gloved fingers tap at her hand.

“Try not to stress your injuries, hm? Just relax.”

Both gloved hands slide against Lena’s skin, stroking her hardness and softly massaging her balls as the younger woman whimpers. “Shit,” Lena whines, arching into her touch. Heat rushes through her as Angela’s cool, gloved fingers carefully fondle her, precum beginning to drip down her shaft.

“Already so worked up,” Mercy notes with a squeeze to her head, thumb brushing against the leaking slit. “And here I was thinking I would need to grab some lubrication.”

“Could lube me up all you want,” Lena weakly responds. Her hips jolt at the teasing touch.

Angela gives a soft laugh and squeezes along her length. “I believe the goal was to _avoid_ a mess, Lena. Not make an even bigger one.”

Tracer finds her mouth moving again.

“Wouldn’t be too much of a mess if you sucked me off.”

Mercy cocks a brow and chuckles, giving her balls a tug. Lena lets out a quiet gasp and spreads her legs even wider.

“Don’t get greedy, _Schätzchen,”_ Angela murmurs. Her strokes grow firmer as her free hand travels lower, petting between her cheeks and teasing a finger against her hole.

“Can’t blame a girl for trying,” Tracer huffs out, arching and spreading her legs as wide as she can with her aching knee. She whimpers as Angela probes at her, blushing brightly at the feel of the latex threatening to tease into her, and throbs helplessly in response.

“You do seem to like these gloves,” Mercy muses. “Do you have a medical kink, Lena?”

“I,” she starts, interrupting herself with a moan as Angela’s hand moves faster, squeezes harder. “A little bit, maybe.”

“Perhaps I’ll keep that in mind when your next physical rolls around. This could be a special treat for staying healthy, _ja?_ Though I must admit I’ve never run into someone that would volunteer for one.”

Lena whimpers, jaw dropping as her hips buck. Her entire body seems to flush. “Fuck, Angie, I’m- don’t stop, Ange, I’m so close.”

"Standard procedure doesn't include orgasms, but I believe I could make an exception for you." Angela continues with a smirk, dragging her hand along her length in firm pulls. She reaches for a tissue with the other and holds it to Lena’s tip as she tugs at her, enjoying the heave of her chest and the throb of her in her hand. “That’s it, _mein kleiner Racker , _let go.”

Tracer whines, head tossing to the side as her good hand clutches at the papery sheets of the medical cot. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she pants into the scratchy pillow, and struggles not to jerk too much as she cums.

Most of her release makes it safely onto the tissue, with only the first wet pulse reaching Angela’s gloved hand. Lena whimpers and gasps as she continues to be stroked through her orgasm, letting out a quiet moan when slick gloved fingers tease at the underside of her head.

When she’s finally finished, Angela wipes her up and steps away to toss the tissue into a nearby bin. Lena focuses on catching her breath as she cleans up.

“Feeling better?” Mercy asks as she peels off her gloves. She turns back to Tracer to help her pull her briefs back up afterwards.

“Mmm, yeah. For now. _Way_ better than if I did it myself.” She adjusts herself in her briefs with a lazy smirk up at Angela. “Should injure myself more often if I get treated to this kind of bedside manner.”

Angela snorts and drags the previously discarded blanket back up Lena’s lower half. “Or you could just ask like a normal person, Lena. You’d have a chance to reciprocate that way, too.”

“Recipro-- wait, really?” Having the tables turned catches her off guard. She does her best to sit up, momentarily forgetting about her hand and cursing as she puts pressure on it, and immediately collapses onto her back once more. Angela tuts loudly.

“Lena, please. The goal was to keep you from aggravating your injuries.”

“That was _before_ I knew you’d be down for a roll in the sack... Bollocks this _does_ hurt now though.”

Mercy sighs and gingerly coaxes her into elevating her arm. “This is why I left you the painkiller,” she says with a pointed look to the pill on the table. “Please take it now. Do you need more water?”

“Yes please,” Tracer sheepishly requests. She pops the pill onto her tongue and gratefully takes the cup of water proffered shortly after to wash it down.

“You should start feeling the effects in about half an hour. With all of that taken care of, is there anything else you need? I should get back to my research. Someone should be around with dinner in...” She looks at her watch. “About an hour. So try not to be masturbating then, hm?”

“No promises,” Tracer says with a cheeky grin. “Seemed to work out in my favor last time, didn’t it?”

Mercy shakes her head with a scoff. “I can see why Widowmaker broke your hand now.”

“I can’t believe the head of the Overwatch medical division is bullying me. When I’m injured and vulnerable, no less!” Tracer huffs. Angela only laughs as she fills up her cup of water once more.

Lena’s voice softens as Mercy places the cup on the table. “Seriously though. Thanks for everything today.” She gestures vaguely at herself. “I know I can be a pain in the arse.”

Angela pets her hair affectionately. _“Ist schon okay._ You’re lucky your attempts at flirting are endearing.”

Tracer grins widely. “That mean that offer from earlier is still on the table?” Her eyebrows bounce suggestively. Mercy laughs softly.

“If you’ll keep out of the medical wing, yes.”

_“Deal.”_

**Author's Note:**

> Im Bereitschaftsdienst - from the mercy voice line, roughly means "on call" or "on standby". i think i'm clever  
> burunduk - chipmunk. meant to be affectionate  
> Da - yes  
> mein kleiner Racker - "my little rascal". was going for an affectionate chiding sort of thing  
> ja - yes  
> Mein Gott - my god  
> Schätzchen - term of endearment  
> Ist schon okay. - roughly "it's alright"
> 
> ok i think that's everything thanks and have a good day


End file.
